Frozen
by wolfern
Summary: Travelling and learning that some things can't be changed. Written for SpyFest 2017, week four


**Frozen**

* * *

Sabina was making pancakes for dinner. Chris, her newest romantic interest – not so new, really; it had been over a year now – was either helping or hampering her while the rest of them lounged in front of the fireplace, on blankets they'd pulled from the cupboards and spread on the floor. They'd turned the heating off, leaving only the direct warmth from the crackling fire. It wasn't quite like Christmas with Jack, but in its own way was just as nice.

Somewhat guiltily, Alex was glad for this trip to New Zealand He was glad for the break from living with Edward and Elizabeth Pleasure. They were kind to him, practically parental, but he couldn't shake his unfamiliarity with such constant supervision. Jack had been more… hands off. And when he'd visited Tom, his friend's parents had been so busy with their bickering that they hardly paid him any notice, let alone asked him whether he was enjoying school.

His new guardians – despite their encouragement, he didn't feel right calling them his parents – had been hesitant to allow him and Sabina to travel on their own so soon – especially since what had happened when they'd travelled together before – but eventually they'd been mollified by a promise that they would go somewhere quiet and safe, with a number of responsible friends. Alex believed their willingness was more due to the hope that he'd finally make some proper connections with people of a similar age, than complete belief in their safety.

Either way, it had worked. Nothing had happened for the entirety of the trip – a good thing, he had to admit – and by now, he would definitely call these people more than acquaintances. There was something about the close quarters of a hired van and shared living spaces that forced amity.

It wasn't just that, though. Chris was one of the most genuine people he'd met, Matt could make him laugh with almost every joke, Amy organised them so everything went off without a hitch, and Brit's spontaneity never failed to deliver an idea for fun.

In fact, Alex felt a bit like he and Sabina were third wheels, though the others made sure to include him in everything. So much so that he wondered whether Sabina had asked them to take care of him, though they never strayed into that awful scrutiny that Edward and Elizabeth regarded him with. It was… nice.

Alex shifted as Chris and Sabina approached, bearing plates with steaming hot pancakes and jugs of maple syrup.

"Dinner is served!" announced Chris. "Eat up, children – we want you to get all your yummy vitamins and minerals."

"Sugar, fat, and carbohydrate – three major food groups," said Amy. "Our parents would be proud."

"What they don't know won't hurt them," Sabina said. "Now shut up and enjoy your pancakes. We made them all by ourselves."

"From a ready-made mix?"

"Shush!"

* * *

They left Wanaka at half eight the next day, after a breakfast of avocado, toast, and fried mushrooms. For one last farewell to the place, they took a dip in the hot pools outside, and took a photo with the snowy mountains in the background.

When they got in the van, Alex's hair was still wet, and it puffed up in the warm air from the van's heater.

"You look like a dandelion," Brit said, running her hand through his hair. "If I blow, will it all come off?"

"Stop teasing him," said Matt. "You're not any better – you could be in an eighties commercial for hairspray."

Brit fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Would you buy me a hot pink leotard and neon legwarmers?" She laughed when he made a retching sound.

Alex could feel the weight of her hand resting on his arm, and the mineral smell of the six of them drying off.

"Turn the radio back on," said Sabina. "I'm sick of listening to these two trying to flirt."

Amy reached over from the passenger seat and turned on the radio, drowning out the protestations of Matt and Brit. "Methinks the twain doth protest too much," she said blandly, and they fell quiet.

Alex recognised the song playing as one he'd heard in the first grocery store they'd visited. _Chocolate Cake_ , or something. The others recognised it, too – it had become somewhat of a theme song for this trip – and they hollered the words to the song, winding down the windows so the wind snatched away their voices.

 _And the sugar that dripped from the violin's bow made the children go crazy, put a hole in the tooth of a hag…_

The wind was roaring in his ears, across his face, through his hair, stinging his eyes. It smelt of ice and grass. In front of them, the wide open road stretched smooth and grey below the blue sky.

* * *

Through some unspoken consensus, the group slept early and rose early. This turned out to be a good thing, because the towns they visited were bereft of nightlife, and the early mornings meant that they passed the most scenic areas when the sun was highest in the sky. It also helped the next day when they had to gather outside, their breath misting the air, to take the tour bus to the Franz Josef glacier.

There was one other group on the bus, a small family with two young kids whose tired eyes peeked out between beanies pulled low, and thick scarves. The heat in the bus wasn't working, and despite his warm clothing, Alex could feel the chill of the hard plastic seat underneath him.

When they arrived at the glacier, however, the sun had ascended enough to shine directly into his eyes when he faced the wrong direction.

The tour leader stood them beside the blue ice as she started her safety talk.

They used grampons – metal things with spikes that they strapped on the underside of their shoes – and long sticks for probing the ice, and were told repeatedly to follow the tour leader's footsteps as exactly as possible. People had fallen and gotten trapped in the ice, going on their own, some of the bodies couldn't even be recovered, at least not for several years.

Despite the brief downer, Alex felt his anticipation grow as they approached the tunnel of ice that would lead to the glacier surface.

At the end of the tunnel, the sun's intensity lit up the ice around them like a torch behind a finger, colouring everything blue. Then, suddenly, they stepped out and the world was bright and white around them, under them. The shadows in the ice beneath were almost brighter than the blue above.

It took a few seconds for Alex to remember how to move.

The middle of the ice carriedan overwhelming sense of aloneness – not loneliness, because he was with everyone, but peaceful quietness like there was a glass wall around him. He couldn't recall ever feeling such a thing before.

As his mind drifted, he caught a flash of light under the ice.

Was it just a trick of the light, the sun reflecting at a strange angle? He looked again, but there was nothing more.

In the background, the call came from the tour leader to return back down to earth.

* * *

He couldn't sleep. The place they were staying in had only one bed, so they'd all decided to sleep on the floor out of egality. Their bags had been haphazardly heaped on the bed, and left packed.

In this town, there were no city lights and so no light glinted off the metal furnishings in the room. There wasn't a sense of wrongness, per se, and his thoughts weren't tumultuous. He just couldn't sleep.

Amy was breathing softly behind him, and he could feel Matt's heat to the side. Maybe when he moved out and lived on his own, he'd get a dog. A big one, he decided.

There was a sound. Or maybe not. He got up anyway, and went to the kitchenette.

No-one.

Softly, keeping his peripheral awareness open, he went to the cupboard and got a glass.

Nothing.

He turned on the tap, filling the glass with water.

Silence.

And then –

"Alex, what are you doing up?" It was Sabina.

Alex sipped his water. "I was thirsty." Was there a flash of a laser from a gun out the window? A swish of someone hiding in the shadows behind the trees?

Sabina peered at him, but she didn't push any further.

He raised his glass. "I'll go back to bed when I finish this."

As soon as she left, he began to wander around the room, as if pacing thoughtlessly. There wasn't much space for an intruder to hide, but just to be sure, he checked the bathroom too.

Maybe he was going stir-crazy from having nothing to do. Was he that far gone? Until today, or even until now, he'd been content with the freedom of empty time.

As he walked back to the others, there was a soft sound, like what he thought he'd heard before. A _snick_ , cutting off quickly. He even felt the whiz of something small, flying past his ear.

Alex turned looked around, but couldn't see where the object had landed. The walls were unblemished, even when he abandoned all pretence of insouciance, and grabbed his phone to provide more light for inspection.

He was being paranoid. Maybe he was sleep-walking or something. He felt completely awake now, and there were no more sounds.

Still unable to shake his disquiet, he joined the others, but closer to the door than he'd been before.

* * *

His ears hurt, like the faint memory he had ear infections as a child. Like when his parents had been killed, and he had been spared. There but for the grace of a common virus.

There was a ringing, too, but Alex shook it off as he got ready for the long drive facing them again. He'd probably just slept in the wrong position. He'd woken up to find himself in a different position to how he'd fallen asleep, sitting with his back to the bed, facing the door, instead of lying between Amy and Matt. His mouth was dry.

That morning, Sabina seemed to have reverted to how she'd treated him when he'd first come to live with her. Something about that annoyed him. He'd thought they were past that. It wasn't like he was made of glass.

Someone had gotten a glass of water the night before, so before they left, they had to clean the glass and no-one else seemed to be bothered, so Alex found himself with the job. A minor job, but he wished whoever had gotten the glass last night would wash it themselves.

Soon they were on the road again, however, and Alex had managed to quell his rising mood. The scenery was as pretty as usual, but they had almost no time to stop for photos, because they were driving all the way to Christchurch – normally driven over the course of two days, not one. And only Matt and Amy were old enough to drive.

At midday, they took a break to relieve their bladders, and they decided to have lunch outside the van, too.

While they were eating their cheese and tomato sandwiches, facing into the wind so they didn't eat their hair, the only other person there approached the group. It was a man, of unobtrusive appearance, though not so plain as to stand out.

"Hi," he smiled. "I'm having a bit of trouble with my map. Would you mind helping me…?"

Alex was the closest, so he went.

"Here," said the man. He took out his map, and spread it over the bonnet.

Reluctantly, Alex leaned in to see the map better.

He stiffened when he felt the man's hand on his arm, stronger than he would have guessed. Hot breath on his ear as the man spoke.

"You don't remember, but we had a nice little chat last night."

Something in Alex told him the man was telling the truth.

"Now, you're going to come with me, and you're going to work for us. Because if you don't, you know what will happen."

"Who are you?" Alex asked softly. Terrorist, or spy agency?

"That doesn't matter. You will obey me now. Tell them you're leaving." With that, he gave Alex a little shove.

In the back of his mind, Alex couldn't believe what was happening. Couldn't believe that even after all this, he hadn't managed to get away. He looked back at the man. Saw the gun in his hand. Looked to the others.

His body walked on towards them, and he found himself telling Sabina he was leaving them.

Of course she was worried. And suspicious. She held his wrist, and tried to ask in a low voice whether everything was alright.

His traitorous mouth gave a small smile of reassurance and told her, yes, it was. He was just helping the man navigate, and then he'd catch a train to Christchurch to meet up with them later.

He tried to warn her, to give some message of what to do if he never showed up, but his mind suddenly seemed to explode with light and pain and he missed whatever his mouth said.

Cringing from the experience, he was an unwilling passenger as his body took his bags and loaded them in the man's car.

He tried but couldn't reply when she said goodbye.

* * *

 _Three years later_

Alex took a sip of the Glen Moray. Single malt, on the rocks. It burnt through his throat and reminded him of his target screaming, burning from the white phosphorous fire. Alex himself had no superficial wounds, but the experience had brought up some bad memories.

The whiskey relaxed his muscles and smoked his mind, so he almost didn't notice when Sabina walked in.

She noticed him right away and, after some hesitation, joined him at the bar.

Alex bought her a drink. A French 75, one he knew she'd like.

"What's your story, then?" she said, tone deceptively uncaring.

"I was bored," he said. Better that she felt he went off on his own accord. "And I didn't feel like coming back."

"You could have been killed!"

"I know."

"Are you even going to tell me who you're working with?"

He shrugged.

She sighed. "Then at least, tell me – are you happy?"

"Yes."

Sabina paused for a long time after that. Her drink arrived, and she sipped it slowly. Alex turned away.

Finally, when she finished, she took out a notebook from her handbag – taking after her father, the journalist – and ripped off a page. She scribbled on it.

"Here," she said. "I'll set up a new email account tonight, and you can message me through that."

He had to dig his nails into his palms. She had learned to take precautions from him. "You won't get anything."

Her eyes brightened, and she stood up. "Take it anyway, though I'm sure you'll have memorised the address already. It was good to see you," she said tonelessly, and left.

It felt like a long time that he sat at the bar, although when he went to his car again, snatching the paper up as he left, she was only a few hundred metres away. He got in, and started driving towards her, paper clutched tightly in his fist.

Two hundred.

One hundred.

He had almost caught up with her as she neared a junction. She was close enough that he could see the buttons on the back of her coat. He started to brake and wind the window down, but then the familiar splashes of light and shooting pain took over his mind.

He dropped the scrunched up paper. His body wound the window up. His eyes watched the needle of the speedometer drift slowly upwards.

One metre.

She turned and nearly fell over the bonnet of his car, which was crawling quietly along the street.


End file.
